Being fully bitten by the bug, I was excited to have my commercial pilot’s license and instructor rating, I was also desperate to find my first ‘real’ job.
I also had in the back of my mind the dream of flying in Africa, and kept my ears open.
One of the guys from the flight school had succeeded in getting a job in Maun, Botswana, and there was lots of talk about it.
So here I was on a plane to Harare, to find out if I could make it in Africa.
Back in the days before 911, one could gain access to the cockpit, and I was determined to do so. I exhausted my list of air New Zealand flying friends, and finally resorted to mentioning the name of a rather extroverted and very gay cabin crew friend of mine. Fortunately everyone knew him, and this gained me a request to the Captain, who happily obliged. Of course all airline pilots were a little sad when the doors were close that we couldn’t welcome newbies and friends for a jump seat anymore. If I fast forward to days in the airline, I remember it was only a few times people asked, and the best was the young kids with dreams of flying. So an hour or so later, after the food was finished, I was in the cockpit for the fun parts, the descent and approach into Bangkok (AirNZ only took us half way).
I chatted with the crew about their career, and told them of my dreams to fly Cessna 206s in the bush in Botswana. They told me about highlights of their career, and how exciting the early days were in comparison to relative monotony of long haul, albeit the pinnacle of most people’s career, a really great job, and where the money and security is. They wished me best of luck, and sent me on my way with all the freebies they could find from business class.
Another flight later and I was in a backpackers in Harare, found at the airport. I am not sure if it was jet lag or the fact I worked damn hard, weeks and my engineering job and weekends at the flight school, to save the money for the trip, however when I got there I practically slept for 3 days.
In-between sleeping I found my way to town to determine the bus route to Maun. I was assured I’d be able to get there, with all the enthusiasm and indestructibility of a 25 year old. This was the first step anyhow, -I had 10,000 dollars in my account, a good idea how to live on a budget, and was determined to get a flying job somewhere – or if not, my backup plan was to arrive penniless back home or in Australia and apply for unemployment benefit, as a failed unemployed commercial pilot.
I’d remembered meeting a young unemployed commercial pilot once at a night club, before I started flying, I was so intrigued about the flying I asked for his number, but I guess a lot of girls are intrigued by pilots, just for me it was in a different sense. He’d joked about the fact that his commercial pilot license just made him fairly unemployable. But at the time, it was so cool to me, nothing else mattered. Now here I was, a fledgling CPL, hoping to get a job but knowing there was a lot of door knocking in front of me. Nothing like opening the paper and sending your CV into suitable applications, this was cold calling at its best. And, being rather shy and less confident than needed, and often terrified of phoning people I didn’t know, hat was a hard road to travel. But if one wants to do something badly enough, one will summon the courage, and keep at it til you find a way.
Right now I had to get over my chronic fatigue or jet lag or what ever it was, and find a way from Harare to Maun.
